


Fragile (Teaser trailer)

by PrairieDawn



Series: The Importance of Choosing the Right Pediatrician [10]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Ableism, Autistic Spock, Dyspraxic Spock, Gen, Sibling friendship, Speciesism, kahs-wan, mention of bullying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:15:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26979451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrairieDawn/pseuds/PrairieDawn
Summary: Prompt: Michael Burnham, Alien Cultural Customs, map.Michael and Spock collaborate to solve a problem while studying for their Kahs-wans.
Series: The Importance of Choosing the Right Pediatrician [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/870771
Comments: 12
Kudos: 43





	Fragile (Teaser trailer)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm hoping to start the next major storyline in this 'verse in November, but for now, have a teaser trailer.

Spock sat at his desk with his elbows on the polished surface, openly scowling at his screen. His legs kicked at the chair. He punched something on the screen with his finger a little harder than necessary and it responded with the low buzz that signified a wrong answer. 

Michael took two steps into the room. Spock’s legs stilled under the chair and he sat up, placing his hands stiffly on the edge of the desk. “Hello, Michael,” he said without taking his eyes off the screen.

“What are you doing?” she asked him.

“I am studying a map of the Forge. Father says neither of us may attempt the Kahs-wan until we have committed the terrain to memory.”

“I know,” she said, taking a step closer. “Are you finding it challenging?”

Spock looked like he was deciding whether to ask for help or pick a fight. He sighed. “I cannot relate the map to the terrain and I do not know why.”

Michael pulled up the extra chair, intending to offer advice, but the defiant set of Spock’s shoulders told her he was not likely to take instruction well. At all. Instead, she admitted, “I can read the map, but memorizing it all is really hard for me.”

“It is because we are inferior,” Spock said ruefully.

“It’s because we’re different,” Michael corrected. She rested her chin on her hands to think. “But we’re not the same kind of different. I have a human memory, but I am good at reading, including maps. Your memory and mental math skills are exceptional, but you don’t--”

“I do not orient myself in space or interact with visual stimuli particularly well.” He sagged in his chair when he said it, as though he had just confessed a crime.

“But you know what you can do?” she said, suddenly excited.

“Nothing of value,” he mumbled.

“No, listen a minute. You are amazing at drawing. What if we take your art pad and we redraw the map, both of us, and then put it up in the room? Then we can walk through it and it will be easier to memorize.”

“If I draw the map in three dimensions, I will make errors,” Spock argued.

“I’ll check your work as we go, and then you can help me memorize it once it’s put together.”

“I suppose that might be a reasonable approach.”

Spock pulled up the art program and Michael found the map of the Forge on her handheld datapad.

By the time their father found them several hours later, the holographic representation filled the entire room, though they had only mapped eighteen percent of the Forge, and not yet to the level of detail either preferred. Father took in their work with a glance. Michael felt herself tense and could see Spock stiffen beside her. “Interesting,” Father said. “Does it have a purpose?”

Spock spoke first. “I am assisting Michael in memorizing the terrain and hazards of the Forge,” he said.

“We are assisting each other,” Michael added a little archly.

Spock’s gaze flicked toward her and then back to their father. “We are taking advantage of our complementary skills.”

“I am gratified to see the two of you collaborating,” Father said. “It is time for the evening meal. Take care to save your work.”

“Yes, father,” Spock said. As soon as their father turned away, he saved the program. “Perhaps he will allow me to attempt the Kahs-wan next spring.”

“I suspect Mother will require you to wait until you are at least eight. I plan to go this winter.” Michael made an effort to descend the stairs with appropriate dignity. Spock copied her. He stumbled slightly on the bottom step and Michael thought uncharitably, ‘I win,’ and then felt a little guilty for competing with a little kid. Only a little guilty, though. 

They took their seats and ate in silence, as was expected. Once the plates were cleared, Spock said, “Michael believes she will be attempting the Kahs-wan this winter. Is that true?”

Mother sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t think it’s safe.”

Michael blurted, “It’s not supposed to be safe. It’s supposed to be challenging. I’ll be ready, Mother.”

“We do not doubt your skill or determination, Michael,” Father said. “Unfortunately, the political climate is such that we must consider threats to the two of you beyond those that already exist in the Forge.”

That wasn’t fair, Michael thought. She said instead, “Have you considered what may be done to mitigate those risks?”

“I have not yet found a solution that is satisfactory.”

So would she never be allowed to go? Most of her age mates had already gone, and she was eager not to be called a human infant any longer. “My classmates will not respect me unless I complete the test soon.”

“Do not concern yourself with your classmates’ opinions, but on mastering the material presented.” That was easy for him to say. The behavior of her agemates was distracting on a good day. On a bad day, it was frankly dangerous. She had been compelled to demonstrate one of the two physical skills at which humans routinely surpassed Vulcans on more than one occasion, even though running away only made them redouble their efforts the next day.

She hoped Spock would stay at the Montessori school for at least another couple of years. He was too sensitive. The students at the Learning Center, especially the ones with isolationist parents, would eat him alive.


End file.
